


The Banshee's Gamble

by KaidaShade



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical Temporary Character Death, Everyone who was a Lightbearer isn't and everyone who isn't now is, Exo Anatomy (Destiny), Fluff and Smut, Game: Destiny 2: Beyond Light DLC Spoilers, I have no idea what to call this au, Inappropriate Use of Light (Destiny), Lament Spoilers, M/M, Power Dynamics, Robot Sex, sexual favours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaidaShade/pseuds/KaidaShade
Summary: On the run from a brutal master and in charge of a desperate band of refugees, Cayde-6 has nothing to his name but his wits and his body.  Their only chance of survival?  The mercy of a  mysterious Warlord known as The Banshee, but what will he ask in exchange for such a favour, and who is he, behind the name and the rumours?
Relationships: Banshee-44/Cayde-6 (Destiny)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	The Banshee's Gamble

“That is a terrible idea and it’s going to get us all killed.” Shaxx grumbled, his voice muffled by a scarf that he had pulled up to hide his face from the biting cold. Even here, huddled in a small cave with a couple dozen other people, Cayde could feel him shivering. It felt like they had all been shivering for days, and there was only so much heat the single, solitary Exo could provide even if he ran warmer than everyone else.

“I don’t see  _ you _ coming up with anything better,” he shot back, “if it works, it gets us food and warmth at the very least. There’s kids here, Shaxx. They’re not gonna last if the weather gets any worse.” He gestured to the small child tucked under his blanket, pressed up against the vents in his side for any hint of warmth that could be achieved.   
“And you think we can just waltz on up to a Warlord’s fortress and beg for help, and hope that he considers your… services, adequate payment, and he’s not going to just set you on fire?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s a terrible idea and it’s going to get us all killed.” Shaxx reiterated, but Cayde could tell he was at least thinking about it. He too had a couple of children huddled up close to him among the press of bodies, their skinny frames trembling miserably.

Cayde wasn’t sure how they’d become the defacto leaders of this ramshackle band of survivors, but Shaxx took it immensely seriously. It was a dangerous world for the Lightless, and apparently these ones had decided that the man-mountain and the sleek, agile Exo were their best chances of staying out of the hands of their tyrannical, immortal former master.

“At least this way, I’m the one in his sights. Less chance he’ll take us in and decide he wants one of them if he’s already got someone willing.” He gestured to the room, careful not to accidentally backhand someone, and in particular to the kids.   
“Do we know anything about him? Anything that makes you think ‘nubile Exo’ is his type?”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” Cayde remarked, “and he took over a Braytech building, I guess that’s something. He’s got a reputation, they say that three other Warlords have tried to take his fortress and he killed all of them. Sounds like good protection to me.”   
“And his people?”   
“Don’t know. I’ve not heard about any atrocities so either he’s decent or nobody gets out alive. I’ve always been a gambler.”

Shaxx’s good eye was on the other side of his head, the visible one a mess of scar tissue that didn’t emote well, but Cayde could  _ feel _ his skepticism. “I’ll go alone at first, scope things out. Show him the sample platter. If I don’t come back… well, you’ll know, won’t you?” 

Shaxx sighed heavily and dropped a hand on Cayde’s shoulder, and even with his Exo strength he buckled a little. “If you’re sure. Much as I hate to admit it, we don’t have many other options. How far away are we?”

“Best guess… half a day’s walk? I’ll go as soon as dawn hits, then you follow once the storm eases off a bit. By the time you get there, hopefully I’ll have what we need.” 

“Or you’ll be dead.”   
“Or I’ll be dead. Give it 48 hours to figure out which.”

Shaxx didn’t reply aloud, just grunted his assent and huddled down with his arms around the children, and Cayde listened as his breathing evened out in sleep.   
  
Twelve hours later, standing in the snow before a vast, half-crumbled edifice dug into the side of a mountain, Cayde wondered if maybe Shaxx had been right. The entrance was an ominous white slab, a cracked and faded logo emblazoned across it high enough that nobody could have reached to remove it, above a pair of hangar-style doors thirty feet high. The actual entrance, it seemed, was a much more humble set of doors at the base, and he hesitated for a moment before gathering his senses and heading for them. He was here now, it was too late for second thoughts, and with his soaked cloak and the chill seeping deep into his wires he doubted he’d make it back in once piece without warming up anyway. One way or another, he was meeting a Warlord today.

He felt a little stupid for just marching up and knocking on the door right after he’d done it, but Cayde had never really been one for subtlety. The direct approach usually served him well, after all. Still, there was no response for just long enough for him to start fidgeting and wondering if maybe he somehow had the wrong place, before the door creaked open a crack and a glowing eye peered out. Exo, he guessed.

“State your name, and your business.” A voice rasped, deep and modulated in a way that confirmed Cayde’s suspicions.

“Cayde-6. I seek an audience with The Banshee.” He said, trying for a formal tone that didn’t really come naturally to him, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to show some respect, “I have a bargain to make with him.”

“Hmm…” for a moment, nothing happened, then the door closed and there was a rattling sound of chains before it opened more fully, revealing a blue-painted exo with yellow facial markings and an array of small antennae across his head, his features set in a perpetual frown. He wasn’t particularly tall or imposing, his simple, loose clothing adding nothing to his stature, but somehow Cayde found himself straightening a little under his scrutiny. “C’mon in. We’ll see what he thinks of you.” The Exo beckoned him in, and Cayde ducked through the doorway with a grateful flash of his mouth.

Inside was much warmer, the howl of the wind becoming distant as the door shut behind him, and Cayde couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “You been out there a while?” The other exo asked, tilting his head at him.   
“Yeah. I’ve come a pretty long way but… this is important.” he said, falling into step with him as he led him off down the entrance corridor. The walls were stark white and remarkably clean and well-lit, various colourful graphics long-faded into the background. A few metres in, the corridor began to branch and Cayde found himself looking around, wondering how big the place was and how many people were here. He saw nobody at first, and his guide was fairly quiet until Cayde grew uncomfortable enough to ask questions.   
“So… who are you?” he asked, casting about for anything to break the silence. 

“Just a gunsmith.” the Exo shrugged, “I do other odd jobs around the place now and again, though.”   
“That’s a big job for a Warlord’s fortress.” Cayde remarked.   
“Keeps me busy”

“Are there many people here?”   
“Fifty, sixty. It’s pretty remote, but we’ve got good supplies. Place was an agricultural research facility, we found a seed vault and hydroponics that still work. You coming alone or just as a representative?”   
Cayde hesitated for a moment, wondering whether revealing too much to an underling would get him in trouble later. Was the Warlord watching, somehow? He glanced up, thought he saw something that looked like a security camera, but he had no way of knowing if it was active. “I’ve got some friends. Refugees, running from another Warlord. Seemed safer just to risk myself negotiating.”

“Brave of you.”   
“Well, y’know how it is. Us Exos, we’re pretty hard-headed.” He flashed a smile and knocked his knuckles against his skull. The other Exo chuckled softly, and Cayde felt something flutter in his chest. Nerves, or was that unexpected laugh really so pleasant?

As they moved deeper, he spied a few humans watching from side corridors as they passed. He couldn’t see them well and his guide didn’t slow down to let him look too closely, but they all seemed to be well-dressed and nobody looked emaciated or obviously wounded or terrified. The single corridor opened up into one vast, circular room with many doors coming off of it, and a dias of sorts at one end built from scavenged crates, a relatively modest throne atop it that was entirely overshadowed by the enormous slab of a sword that rested against it, the toothed edge and tiny jet engine at one end suggesting more than a mere blade. The chair was empty, and Cayde found himself frowning in confusion. Was the Warlord busy, perhaps?   
  
A soft glow from in front of him caught his attention, and he found that his guide had moved a few metres away and was holding something in his hand, a mote of light. No… not just light. Light, capital L, he realised. He felt his jaw drop open, and the Exo met his eyes with a hint of amusement and dropped it to the ground, where it bloomed into a pool of yellow-white Light.

“Come here. Get comfortable, you look battered to hell.” He said, then turned and ascended the dias to drop himself onto the throne. “So. What can The Banshee do for you, Cayde-6?”

Oh.

At first, Cayde couldn’t bring himself to move. He’d been within touching distance of a Risen the whole time and hadn’t even known. But then he realised that refusing such a generous offer could be taken poorly and he stepped into the pool of light. Immediately, the fatigue and cold was swept away by a wave of tingling warmth and he vented hard in surprise. He hadn’t realised quite how sore and exhausted he had been by the constant walking and cold of the last few weeks, and if he had still been capable of tears he thought he might have cried from the sudden relief. “Oh, wow… thank you.” He managed to say instead. Should he kneel? He thought about it, but the Warlord didn’t seem to expect it, so he stayed standing within the pool of Light. 

Right. Business. “It’s more a case of what we can do for each other, I hope. I’ve come on behalf of a group of refugees, as I said earlier. They’re struggling, exhausted, on the run from another Warlord and they’re running out of supplies. They won’t last in the cold, so I hoped to ask for your protection for them. We don’t have much, but…” He paused, trying to remember the speech he’d been preparing on the way here, “I offer myself as tribute, if the idea interests you.”

Cayde did his best not to fidget, but the wait while the Warlord leaned forward and looked him up and down, an elbow on his knee and his chin rested on his palm, was almost intolerable. They had drawn some attention, he realised, people emerging from the side corridors and pausing to watch. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t,” the Warlord remarked, “the details can wait. I’ll help your friends. How far out are they, I’ll send transport. No need to make them struggle with the walk.”

Cayde’s relief was tangible and he thanked him profusely, but he couldn’t help but feel a little curl of nerves in his gut. Whatever might happen to him was delayed, it seemed, but he had even less idea of what to expect from The Banshee now. Things seemed to happen rather quickly after that, the Warlord standing from his throne and gesturing for him to follow as he gathered his people. He never raised his voice or resorted to the kind of posturing and threats he’d seen from his former Warlord, but nonetheless by the time they reached some kind of garage with a hefty, tracked hauler parked within he had gathered a pair of Risen and sent several Lightless off about their business. One of his companions, a blonde woman with a tattoo on one shoulder, hopped into the transport’s driver’s seat and the other, a grey-haired man with a sniper rifle slung over his back and a kind smile, took up a spot on the top to keep watch.

Cayde found himself in the cab, within inches of the deadly Warlord. The Banshee glanced at him as the door to the outside rolled up, dousing them in a flurry of snow, and gestured forward. “You remember the way?”

He nodded. “Yeah. They’ll be on the move by now, but following my path. How fast does this thing go?”   
The blonde woman grinned at him and the engine roared to life. “Oh, just you wait.” she said, and with a great creak and growl the hauler rumbled out into the snow. Something that big should not be able to move like that, Cayde thought as he clung to the door for dear life and pointed the way while the woman whooped in delight.

It had taken him most of the morning to trudge to the fortress through the snow, but only about twenty minutes for them to spot the huddle of shapes making their way in his tracks. Cayde spotted Shaxx at the fore, his height marking him out, and saw him stop dead at the engine roar, holding his arms out to stop the others as though he might be able to protect them from the vehicle. “Stop here, Amanda,” The Banshee said, and she allowed it to roll to a stop a good hundred feet from the group so that he could clamber out, “No point scaring them. Devrim, keep watch.”   
The man flashed a salute and looked the other way, rifle up to make use of the scope as the rest of them started towards the huddle of frightened Lightless. Cayde jogged to get a little ahead, waving so that Shaxx would see him.

“Traveller, you actually did it.” Shaxx boomed as he got within earshot, “You… did do it?”   
“Yeah, he agreed to help! I am the  _ best _ negotiator! Even got a ride.” Cayde grinned, looked over at the group at the sound of hopeful murmurs, “We’re sleeping indoors tonight, guys. We’re safe.” He decided not to mention where he suspected  _ he’d  _ end up sleeping. They didn’t need to know how he’d done this, only that he had.

The crunch of snow announced The Banshee’s arrival and he met Shaxx’s gaze, though he had to crane his neck upwards to do so. Not unusual, for those meeting Shaxx, but unlike most he didn’t seem particularly awed by him. Cayde supposed that when you had the Light it was hard for a mortal to compare. “Is this everyone? Anyone sick or injured I should know about?” he asked, then held out a hand, “I don’t much care for the titles. Banshee-44.”

Cayde didn’t think he’d ever seen Shaxx hesitate, but there was a moment before he took the offered hand to shake. His dark, scarred hand dwarfed Banshee’s, but Banshee seemed unconcerned by it. “I am Shaxx. Thank you, for agreeing to help us. We have a few minor injuries but mostly we are just tired and hungry.”

“We’ve got space, it’s not a problem. Should be able to fit everyone in the transport, too. We can be back in half an hour, I’ve got people preparing food and quarters for you.”

The relief as Shaxx’s shoulders relaxed was palpable, and he and Cayde set to getting everyone and their meagre belongings loaded into the transport. The three Risen kept a watchful eye over the surrounding area, apparently aware of the fearful way most of the Lightless humans looked at them, like they were bombs that might go off if they did more than tiptoe around them. The more they kept their distance, the happier everyone seemed.

Cayde dropped himself into the back last, next to Shaxx who had his knees almost drawn up around his ears in the cramped quarters. “Well,” Shaxx said, keeping his voice as low as he could so that only everyone in the back would hear him and not the entire country, “he’s not quite what I expected.”   
“I know. Believe me, I was as surprised as you. He just… agreed. No negotiation, no demands for payment up front, I just said my piece and he was like ‘yeah I’ll help’. Dunno if I fully trust it but his own people didn’t seem afraid of him.” 

“Remarkable. I just meant that I expected him to be taller but… hmm. We will just have to keep a sharp eye out and hope we can escape if something goes wrong.”

The rest of the trip passed in relative quiet, most of their companions too nervous to talk much once Shaxx had lapsed into a contemplative silence. They were greeted by other Lightless when they returned, who had apparently been instructed to get them settled. Cayde found himself separated from the others, a somber, bald Awoken man showing him to a room of his own deeper in the complex. Cayde had never seen an Awoken in person before and he found himself distracted from the explanation of the local rules the man gave by the play of light over his skin, which seemed to do absolutely nothing to improve his dour demeanour. 

He suspected that the room had never originally been intended for habitation, judging by the differences in material and construction between the back wall and the other three sides. He suspected that this whole wing might have been one large room at some point, converted for a more useful purpose, but the new build seemed sturdy to Cayde’s untrained eye and, more importantly, it was warm in there. Basic, yes, and small, but he had a real bed with proper blankets and there was a woven rag rug on the floor that added a splash of colour and homeliness to the stark white space. Most importantly, a bowl of soup sat steaming on the small table and filling the air with an incredible smell that would have had him drooling if he was still able to.

“You look surprised.” The Awoken remarked, and for the first time Cayde saw something like amusement in the quirk of his lips.   
“Well… yeah. My standards for digs are pretty low, I’ll be honest. This is amazing. Everyone gets this, right?” He had a sudden sinking feeling; what if this was because of what he had offered? It didn’t seem unlikely that a Warlord’s… consort? Was that the right word?- would get more comfortable surroundings.

“Essentially, yes. Families get more space, of course. You need not worry, your friends will be treated well.” He assured him. It was nice that he seemed to understand, and Cayde huffed a laugh.   
“Not your first batch of lost souls, huh?”   
“We all come from somewhere. Make yourself at home. There are showers and such at the end of the corridor if you need them. I suspect you’ll all get the full tour tomorrow once you’ve had a chance to rest.”

“Am I allowed to explore?” Cayde asked, as though it would stop him from trying if he was told no.

“Of course. But it’s easy to get lost if you are unfamiliar with the facility, so I wouldn’t wander too far.”

Cayde nodded his understanding, and the moment the Awoken left him alone he fell on the soup with the ferocity of a ravenous tiger. He didn’t really feel hunger any more, but the instinct was there and it had been so long since he’d eaten that real, hot food was the closest thing to heaven he could imagine. Once he’d done that and revelled in the warmth and the fullness of his belly, he took the time to hang up his filthy cloak and poke around the rest of the room, opening the drawers under the table and peering into the little locker at the foot of the bed. He found a notebook, pens, the stub of a pencil, and a set of clean, dry clothes that he wasted no time changing into just to enjoy the feeling of not being damp and cold again.

Venturing out into the corridor without explicit permission felt daring, but he encountered several people and none of them stopped him or challenged him, only offered greetings and welcomes that he responded to with his usual charm, all winks and smiles and playful salutes made slightly awkward by the bundle of clothes and cloak he carried with him. He spent a long time in the showers once he found them, rinsing all the dirt out from the cracks in his plating and scrubbing his gear until the water ran clear again. He’d almost forgotten that the red stripe on the cloak was there at all, under the grime.

He swiped a towel from a pile near the entrance, and once he was dry and dressed again he carried everything back to his new room and hung it all up to dry out, only to realise that he was at a loose end. He should probably stay here, he thought, settle in and rest like a good little subordinate…

Five minutes later he’d escaped the wing entirely and was wandering the corridors, trying to map the place in his head just in case he ever needed to flee Banshee’s grasp. He made a point to avoid people, keeping his ears pricked for any sounds of footsteps. Not because he feared being caught, but because it was almost a habit at this point and despite the Awoken’s reassurances he felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t be. Besides, he felt half-naked without his cloak, even inside the warm building. 

He felt like he was keeping things relatively straight in his head; at least, he was confident that he could find his way back to his room when he finally decided to do so. He had almost decided he was done for the night when a loud, metallic growl issued from a corridor to his left, and any thought of not investigating was banished from his mind. Maybe most sensible people would have left well alone, but Cayde had never been accused of being sensible. He glanced around as the sound came again, checking that he wasn’t being watched, then crept towards the source of the noise.

A door stood ajar at the end of the corridor, and as he got closer he could see that it opened onto some kind of balcony overlooking another room. He crouched and crept closer, hearing more sounds between the revving growls- an engine of some kind, he was certain now- the rhythmic thump of something metallic on wood, and underneath it all a whirr of fans that he recognised at an Exo exerting themselves. The coast seemed to be clear, and he was able to slip onto the balcony and peek over the low wall that bordered it. 

The lower floor was much larger; possibly some kind of auditorium in its previous life, now cleared into a wide open training room. It had only one occupant; Banshee himself, stripped to the waist and barefoot, holding the massive sword that had leaned on his throne in one hand as he paused for breath, the other end propped on the ground. Cayde felt his fans catch and deliberately shut them down, not daring to make a sound. His approach would have been covered, but now, still as he was, surely Banshee would hear him if he so much as breathed. 

The other Exo started moving again, hefting the sword as though it weighed a quarter of what it should and moving into some kind of practice routine. He was beautiful and terrifying to watch; slow, controlled power in the early steps, building in speed and strength. Cayde realised that the sound he had heard was coming from the sword itself, the toothed blade revving up like a chainsaw as Banshee swung it and the little engine on the end propelling it in a wide arc and adding force to the blow against his imaginary foe. He was poetry in motion, if the poem in question was a warrior’s marching song, and Cayde found himself utterly captivated by his focus, by the way his plating shifted as the synthetic muscle beneath flexed and stretched.

He turned, and for a moment Cayde thought he had been seen as Banshee leapt towards the balcony. He ducked down and the Warlord’s foot came within six feet of his head as he kicked off of the wall, flipping over in the air to slam the sword down into the ground below hard enough to crack the wood with an awful splintering crash.

For a moment, there was silence. Then… “Ah, shit… gonna have to fix that,” muttered from beneath and the metallic scrape of the sword being picked up. Cayde made an odd, strangled, staticky noise as he tried to suppress the slightly manic laugh that threatened to bubble up from his voicebox, then froze as Banshee grunted a questioning sound and went still. He didn’t dare move even a finger, huddled down behind the wall listening to the small movements below until he heard Banshee sigh, the clank of the sword being hefted onto his shoulder, footsteps and the creak and click of a door opening and shutting. Only then did he dare to allow his fans to turn on, cool air rushing through his body in a stressed whirr. 

This was dumb. This was so dumb and he could have gotten himself killed, but the thrill of it… no, no it was worth it. It wasn’t hubris if you survived, right? He scrambled up and out into the corridor again, hurrying back in the direction of his room… or at least, what he thought was the right direction. Except he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, because he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen  _ that _ symbol on any of the walls he’d passed…

Hm. He paused, taking in his surroundings. It looked familiar, but in more of a ‘could be any one of a dozen corridors in this building’ way than a ‘I’ve definitely been here before’ way. This was definitely a predicament. He could ask someone, he supposed, but his pride would be irreparably damaged and besides, there was nobody around anyway, so who was he supposed to-   
“You alright, Cayde? You look lost.” The low, rasping voice from behind him was barely familiar, but it was familiar enough. He glanced over his shoulder to see pale blue eyes, a yellow facial stripe. Banshee had apparently put his shirt back on, for which he was somewhat grateful, and his voice held genuine concern rather than the smug superiority of one who had just caught a subject doing something they shouldn’t be. Still, it could be a trap, and Cayde knew to tread carefully when it came to Warlords.

“Yeah, a little. Just trying to get the lay of the land a bit, y’know? I was on my way back and I think I went the wrong way. Hope I haven’t wandered into something… private.”   
“No, you’re good. That corridor’s blocked off for now, haven’t gotten around to clearing the area yet. Want me to show you the way back?” Banshee explained, looking him up and down. Cayde tried very hard to look as unsuspicious as possible, which of course meant he was certain he looked very suspicious indeed.

“Please,” he tried to channel as much gratitude as he could instead, hoping Banshee would just assume he was nervous to speak with a Warlord outside of the formal setting they had enjoyed earlier. The rules were different here, with no script to fall back on.

“C’mon. Living quarters are back this way.” He said, gesturing for him to follow and turning his back as though he completely trusted that Cayde wouldn’t try to stab him in it. It wouldn’t matter if he did, he supposed. He followed in his wake, wondering if maybe he should say something, ask him when he planned to collect on Cayde’s debt. Just so he could be prepared. But no, he was probably busy, best to just let it happen, right?

Luckily, it seemed he hadn’t gotten too far away from his room, and Banshee brought him right to the door in just a few minutes. “Here. If you were looking for your friends, they should be nearby. We all eat together in the morning, so if you can’t find them tonight you’ll see them then.” Banshee explained, stepping back a bit to give Cayde space to get into the room if he wanted to. 

“Thanks. Was mostly just trying to get my bearings. I don’t tend to do too well sitting still.” He admitted, leaning on the door without actually entering right away. Maybe he just wanted to study his new lord, figure out what he was dealing with, “Not that this isn’t a fantastic place to sit still in, haven’t been this comfy in… oh, gotta be my last lifetime at least. Dunno what Cayde-5 had to put up with. Just… twitchy.”

“It’s a new place, new people. Doesn’t surprise me you’d be nervous. I ain’t gonna hurt you though, can promise you that. You put your trust in me and I intend to make good on that.” Banshee assured him, his gruff voice deeply sincere. He reached out to pat Cayde on the shoulder, leaving a strange lingering tingle that sent a strange thrill down his spine, then turned to go. “Let me know if you need anything, alright? I’ll be around.” 

“Sure. Thank you.” Cayde took a moment to formulate the response, watching as he walked away and lingering until he’d turned the corner before ducking back into his room and laying down on the bed, venting hard through all his fans.

What the hell. Banshee was a Warlord, why did it feel like talking to just any person? Except, not quite like any other person. A really attractive person who was very good with a sword in ways that, apparently, Cayde liked. A really attractive person who was being nice to him, which was a precious rarity.

Maybe… maybe offering him his body hadn’t been a mistake. Maybe it would actually be alright? Fun even?

He didn’t sleep that night, his thoughts going ninety miles an hour. Judging by Shaxx’s chirpy demeanour when they met for breakfast- actual breakfast! With eggs!- he hadn’t shared the experience. Chirpy Shaxx was a loud companion, but it was nice to see him with some hope and energy even if he would  _ never _ have admitted he was at the end of his tether.

He spotted Banshee a few tables over from them in the large dining hall, sitting with his two Risen companions and a small cluster of Lightless humans all relaxed and chatting as though this was nothing unusual. It took Cayde a couple of moments to notice that Shaxx was saying his name, and he glanced up with a questioning noise.   
“Are you alright? You’ve been staring off into space for the last few minutes.”   
“Oh… yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He drank some of the weird fruit juice that he’d gotten with his breakfast, enjoying the flavour even if he couldn’t identify the fruit. “Too used to being on the lookout, y’know. Keeping an eye on the most dangerous thing in the room.” He gestured vaguely with his fork, just in case Banshee happened to look up and realise he was talking about him. 

“Hmm. I know what you mean. He seems decent, though. You did well, getting us here, but I won’t be letting my guard down entirely just yet.”   
“Me neither. I still owe him.” 

Shaxx made a concerned sound, and Cayde cut him off as he tried to open his mouth, “Don’t you go and say something like-” he put on a much quieter imitation of Shaxx’s voice, “-’if he hurts you I’ll give him what for-”   
“I don’t sound like that,”   
“You do, sorry to tell you- anyway. Don’t. Don’t want you getting hurt ‘cuz of me and even you can’t take on a Risen and win. I made my bed and I’ll fuck in it.”

Shaxx grunted his assent, and they were joined by a few of their original group, all excited about the accommodations and the good food. Cayde perked himself up, grinning and settling into lighter conversation, but he kept half an eye on Banshee as the Risen finished his food and headed off with a couple of the Lightless, apparently having some kind of spirited discussion. He caught some incomprehensible technobabble as they passed, but honestly he was more interested in the way that Banshee reacted, the little concentrating frown that brought his brow plates together. He couldn’t watch him for long though, before he went behind him out of sight.

\------------------------------

He saw him again next as he and the rest of the newcomers were being led around by the same serious-faced Awoken that had shown him to his room the night before, who introduced himself this time as Zavala. They were being led through a workshop area with various people working on machinery or fixing tools and clothing and there was Banshee, up to his elbows in grease with his sleeves rolled up as he did something to a massive cannon that was in pieces across several benches. He barely glanced up as they came through, only offering a nod to Zavala before getting back on with his work. In that brief moment Cayde caught sight of a smear of grease across his forehead where he’d tried to wipe away sweat he didn’t have, and he couldn’t help the strange warmth in his chest at such a human gesture. How many times had he done something like that without even thinking about it?

But it was only a moment, and then they moved on. They took in the massive hydroponics facility at the heart of the base, the medical wing stocked with alarmingly ancient- but apparently still functional- equipment, the common areas where people gathered when they weren’t working, the smaller offshoot where the fortress’ few children were apparently educated, and ended with a brief stop by the large observation windows on the top floor, just poking out of the mountain, which gave a spectacular view across the snow-covered valley below. Cayde might have found it more beautiful if he didn’t remember intimately just how cold it was. 

Luckily, no attempt was made to go outside. They were allowed to talk to other members of the hold as they passed through, ask questions, consider how they wanted to spend their time and how they could best contribute to the running of the place. Cayde hadn’t quite expected to have to make a decision like that, but eventually settled on joining a hunting team to help feed the fortress. It seemed ideal really; physical job, got to leave every now and again, and it was way less dangerous for an Exo than for a human. And maybe keeping out from under Banshee’s eye was a good idea, considering. He might even forget about their deal.

And, as he found out a few days later when the snow melted a little and he went on his first hunt with a charming, dark-haired human and a yellow-plated Exo, it was incredibly fun. He could have been built to do this, he thought; running with a pack, tracking deer and wild goats through the forest down in the valley, and even if he fumbled a lot at first there was something incredibly satisfying about returning with a hefty meal slung over his shoulders. His companions were patient teachers and he soon became good friends with them, spending evenings trading stories of other Warlords and barely-remembered past resets. Andal always had a joke or a piece of sage advice, and Shiro seemed wise beyond his years. For the first time that he could remember, Cayde felt like he was home.

But the spectre of his deal still hung over him, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Whenever Banshee was there when they returned with their kill he offered a nod of approval and a gruff, understated sort of praise that nonetheless warmed something in Cayde’s chest, but there was never anything more than that, never any indication that he was thinking about dragging him off and ravishing him. And… Cayde wasn’t so sure that would be a bad thing, either.

He found himself wandering the halls again, a couple of weeks after his first hunt. This time, though, he had a purpose in mind. He remembered the way to that old auditorium, and he hoped that if he returned there at the same time of day, he might catch Banshee practicing again. The first time he tried it, the place was empty and dark, though he noted with a small amount of amusement that the floor had indeed been repaired. The second time, though, he heard voices as he came along the hall, talking casually. He even heard a laugh- Devrim’s, he recognised after a moment. The accent was hard to misplace.

He dropped into a crouch and snuck onto the balcony, peering over to see all three Risen standing below. He clamped down on his vents when he realised their Ghosts were present too, floating off to the side together. He’d never seen one in person before; his previous Warlord had kept his out of everyone’s sight. They were smaller than he’d expected, he thought, and remarkably expressive as they huddled like gossiping grandmothers while their charges stretched and chatted amongst themselves.

“Alright, I suppose I’d best get this over with” Devrim sighed, unsheathing a pair of knives from his belt as Banshee shed his shirt and picked up his sword.   
“Gotta learn, Devrim. Can’t rely on being half a mile away from your enemy all the time.”   
“Are you sure you’re a Warlock? You’re far too fond of hitting things with that slab.”

“Stop stalling.” Banshee took up a fighting stance at one end of the room, and Devrim sagged a little before going to stand across from him. Amanda grinned and stepped back, holding out an arm.   
“Aaaand… go!” Her arm fell and Banshee launched himself across the gap, sword revving furiously. Devrim danced back, agile as a cat, and Amanda cheered for him as he feinted one way, darted the other and tried to get under Banshee’s guard. Cayde held his breath, startled by how fast they were, how strong Banshee must be to go after Devrim with such speed when wielding such a weapon. A puff of Light propelled the sniper into the air and he flipped over Banshee’s head, forcing him onto the defensive for a moment, his sword up to block with one hand on the flat of the blade as Devrim tried to dart past him.

For a moment, Cayde thought Devrim might succeed, then Banshee lashed out with a foot and caught him behind the knee, dropping him to the ground hard. That had to be the end of it, Cayde thought, but it seemed Risen didn’t fight like that.

The sword arced through the air, down like a guillotine towards Devrim’s chest, and a shout rang out through the air over the rev of the blade and the splatter of blood. It took Cayde a moment to realise it had been him, and he clamped a hand over his mouth. Stupid! It would be fine if Banshee killed him! He would just get back up! But the instinct had betrayed him, and he realised that the room below him had gone dead silent. A flash of light broke the stillness. 

“Well, somebody likes me.” Devrim remarked a moment later, sounding completely unharmed, “Thank you, Crumpet.”   
“Whoever’s up there, show yourself.” Banshee called. Cayde couldn’t make himself move, until he added, “Don’t make me come up there.”

Cayde dared to peek over the top of the barrier, his eyes bright in the shadows, and he saw all three Risen gazing up at him. Their Ghosts had vanished, though he couldn’t see where they could have gone to. He raised his hands as he slowly stood, aware of a faint tremor in his legs. Oh, Light, what if they didn’t take well to his snooping? Any one of them could end him, let alone what all three might do. Banshee squinted, tipped his head.   
“Cayde? The hell are you doing here?” he took a step towards the balcony and it was all Cayde could do not to flinch. He’d seen Risen in action before, he knew he wasn’t out of reach.   
“I… call it curiosity, I guess.” He said, trying to keep his cool, “I heard noises, came to investigate and stayed for the show. Didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. You guys are just… impressive.”

Devrim, his shirt still splattered with blood, chuckled. “Well, one of us is at least.”   
“Two.” Amanda nudged him in the arm, “You don’t gotta look so scared y’know. Banshee only eats the bad children.”

Banshee let the sword clatter to the ground, taking his eyes off Cayde to give them a long-suffering look before holding out his empty hands. “Ignore them. Except for the part about being scared. I’m not gonna do anything to you, it’s fine if you wanna watch. Just warn us you’re there. Can be a little twitchy.”   
“Oh…” Cayde slowly lowered his hands, feeling a little awkward just standing there. “Do you guys… do this a lot?”   
“He doesn’t  _ always  _ kill me.” Devrim remarked.   
“Gotta keep ourselves in practise. We get sloppy, this whole place is in danger. Plenty of Risen who’d wanna take over or just burn everything down out of spite because we have more than them. I kinda like being alive and I’m sure everyone else here agrees.” 

“Yeah… yeah, gotta admit, I’m feeling pretty safe having seen that.” Cayde nodded. At least, now that he knew he wouldn’t be the next one under Banshee’s blade for snooping on them, “But… I’m gonna go. I’ll leave you to it.” 

Banshee inclined his head and Cayde took that as permission, darting off back out into the corridor as swiftly as he could without actually  _ running _ . Holy shit. Any other Warlord would have killed him for impudence, he was sure. His old one definitely would have. He might not have a heart but something in his chest was vibrating hard, and he had to stop a little way out just to let his fans run down and his legs stop trembling.    
  
And yet…

Watching Banshee in action had been thrilling. He wanted to do it again. And a few days later, he found himself drawn back to the training room. Somehow it was far more awkward coming in announced than just sneaking, and he decided the bold approach was probably best; rapping his knuckles against the door a couple of times before just letting himself in onto the balcony.

Banshee seemed to be alone, this time, and he’d paused to look up at the sound. “Wondered if you’d come back.” He said, leaning on the handle of the sword and gazing up at him. He almost looked like he was smiling from that angle, though even Cayde found it hard to tell with Exos.    
“Well, it’s educational.” He shrugged, feigning casual as he leaned on the barrier, “I’ll just keep quiet and out of your way, won’t even know I’m here.”

“I’m fine either way.” Banshee shrugged, “You’re a curious one. If you’ve got questions, ask them.” he took up his sword again and went back to his practice, his movements powerful and controlled. Cayde managed to watch quietly for a few minutes, appreciating him and his grace and strength, but eventually his curiosity got the better of him.   
“So… why the sword? Why  _ that _ sword? You clearly know your way around guns too.” 

Banshee didn’t pause, just made a thoughtful noise and shrugged in a brief lull. “It was there when I was revived. Figured it was important somehow.”   
“You don’t remember why?” He cocked his head   
“Don’t remember anything from before ‘cept my name. Devrim and Amanda didn’t even have that. It’s like a reset, far as I can tell,” Banshee explained, executing some fancy footwork and slicing through an invisible foe. 

“Your Ghost couldn’t tell you?”

“She’s not omniscient. First she knew who I was was when she found my corpse.” He paused for a moment, glancing to the side with a brief flash of his mouth like he was going to say something, stopped, then looked at Cayde. “You ever seen a Ghost?”   
“Only the other night, from a distance.” Cayde found himself leaning over the balcony slightly, his eyes widening.   
“Thought you lived with a Warlord before?”   
“He never brought his out. Too paranoid I guess.”

“Too smart, more like. Sounds like plenty of you’d have good reason to end him.”   
“If we’d had the chance, yeah. I know better than to think I could’ve fought him.” Cayde was unsure whether that was smart to admit or not but… well, Banshee had brought it up.   
“Think he’d come after you?”

Cayde’s mouth flickered hesitantly, then he shrugged. “Maybe if he knew where we were. But if he could’ve tracked us, we would never have gotten here.” At least, he hoped that was true. He didn’t want to have to think about what Banshee might do if he did come to claim them, especially since he hadn’t made good on his debt yet.

Banshee seemed to take the answer at face value though, just nodded and returned to his practise for a little longer. The question lingered with Cayde, though, even after they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. 

If only he had had longer to wonder.

\----------------

The first warning they had was an alarm blaring through the facility, those who had been there longer exchanging worried glances before getting up and moving. Shiro dropped the cards he’d been scrutinising and gave Cayde’s arm a tug. “C’mon. That’s bad news, Risen approaching.” he said, and Cayde felt his fans stutter. No… it had to be someone else.   
“What do we do?”   
“We hide. Maybe man some guns up top. It’s way out of our league.” 

Cayde couldn’t argue with that. He followed Shiro and the rest of the crowd, hating the numb, chill dread that had settled heavy in his chest. He couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t. He’d rather die. He caught himself eyeing the knife sheathed on Shiro’s hip, until the other Exo grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “Don’t look like that. We’ll be fine, Banshee hasn’t failed us yet.” He assured him.

As they made their way through the central command room, Cayde glanced up at one of the monitors on the wall showing a security feed from outside, and the cold lump fell right into where his stomach should be. The shiny red and silver, the curved pauldrons, the imperious sneer. He’d recognise Hideo anywhere. Compared to him, Banshee looked incredibly plain and unremarkable as he strode out into the snow. He only realised he’d stopped to stare when Shiro pushed him along a little harder. “C’mon. There’s a feed in the bunker, too if you really wanna watch.”

He didn’t. He really didn’t want to see Banshee hand them over, would rather be ignorant. But he found himself glued to the screen anyway, watching the two Warlords converse with their lieutenants at their backs. Hideo’s group was larger; the would-be King himself and four other Risen, but Banshee seemed unperturbed and talked to him with his arms folded casually over his chest. His back was to the cameras so Cayde couldn’t see for sure, but he appeared unarmed. Like he’d just gone out to tell some kids to get off his lawn, rather than face an immortal warrior known for his disregard for others.

It was far too casual. It would almost have felt friendly, if Cayde couldn’t see the scowl slowly deepening on Hideo’s face. He knew that face. Had seen it moments before some unspeakable acts of violence, knew intimately how quickly that casualness could break.

He felt like a prophet when, almost as one, Hideo’s crew pulled weapons. All Cayde could do was grab onto his own knee and squeeze hard enough to feel the joints creak as Banshee, Devrim and Amanda ducked for cover, weapons flashing to their hands out of nowhere. The chaos that followed was hard to keep track of, but two of Hideo’s lieutenants went down to swift shots from somewhere while a third was thrown off-camera into the snow by a sparking, pulsing orb of Light flung by Banshee. As soon as he got a clear line of sight Banshee flung himself at Hideo, his sword appearing in his hand as he forced the other Risen back, bullets scattering into the snow as the other Warlord retaliated and leapt back in a puff of Light.

Banshee staggered, mouth flashing in a pained expression Cayde knew all too well, and Hideo seemed to summon a shield of purple Light out of nowhere and slammed into him, sending him flying to crash into the snow. Cayde silently willed him to get back up, but as Hideo advanced on him he didn’t seem to be moving. Exos couldn’t vomit, but Cayde had never felt so sick. If Banshee lost…

Hideo’s shield flickered out of existence and he strode towards him, laughing. Even without sound on the feed, Cayde could hear it in his head. The laugh of someone who knew their prey couldn’t fight back, and loved it. Gloating, even as Banshee pushed himself up on his hands in the snow, shaking his head in a daze. Hideo pulled a pistol from a holster on the thigh of his armour and levelled it at Banshee’s head, stopping just a couple of feet away. He was saying something Cayde couldn’t hear, taking his time like the smug bastard he was. Cayde closed his eyes.    
  
The crack and boom of thunder shook the facility, all the way to their saferoom. A gasp went up around the room, followed by several shouts and… a cheer? Cayde’s head snapped back up, eyes wide. Banshee rose- actually  _ rose,  _ his feet leaving the ground- lightning crackling across his plating and a charred, melted hole blasted in the snow. Hideo was nowhere to be seen, and his lieutenants backed up sharply as Banshee floated towards them, Devrim and Amanda on his heels. They ran. The room erupted into cheers and Shiro clapped Cayde hard on the back, nearly knocking him over as he sagged in relief. “You see! He won!”   
“The other guy’s not really dead though, is he?”   
“Well… no, but Risen don’t kill each other’s Ghosts much. He does this a lot, watch.” 

Shiro pointed to the screen as Banshee dropped back to his feet, stumbling just a little before he could throw down a rift. He was watching a point in the air just above the snow hole, his mouth flashing as he spoke. Cayde didn’t think he’d ever seen light scintillate cautiously, but that was the only way he could describe the way a Ghost- deep crimson and obnoxiously shiny, had to be Hideo’s- appeared in the space. Banshee took a step back, and the Ghost unfurled into a dozen little pieces. It was fascinating to watch, if horrifying. Hideo’s body seemed to piece itself back together from dust and ash and the Ghost dropped him onto his feet, where he glared and pointed an accusing finger at Banshee. The Exo merely shrugged, lifting his hand and summoning a sparking, pulsing ball of energy clearly intended as a threat, and the other two aimed their guns. 

It took several tense seconds, but Hideo’s Ghost broke the standoff, gently butting against his shoulder to try to get him to move while still trying to hide under his armour. He scowled and his fist clenched, and for a moment Cayde thought he was going to backhand the little thing away from him, but he relented. He spat something at Banshee, who just narrowed his eyes, then turned to slink off after his lieutenants. Cayde had never seen him seething with such fury, or so humiliated. It was, he suspected, the most satisfying thing he would ever witness. The room erupted in celebrations, and even over the din Cayde heard Shaxx bellow ‘and  _ stay _ gone!’ followed by the excited squeal of some small child being lifted into the air. Cayde could only feel relief, his legs shaking too much to allow him to stand with everyone else. He was dimly aware of Shiro’s hand on his head, ruffling hair he didn’t have for a moment before realising his mistake and patting his shoulder instead, but he had eyes only for the screen and Banshee slowly letting his guard down. He jerked away when Devrim tried to touch his elbow and the sniper seemed to understand. As one, they backed up towards the facility, eagle-eyed for any sign of trouble until they were out of sight of the camera and safely behind locked doors.

The comm system within the room crackled to life, Banshee’s voice coming through the speakers. “All clear. Doors are locked. Hopefully they won’t be back.” he said. There was a click and a hiss and the heavy saferoom door slowly rolled open, the light from outside bright and almost blinding. Cayde let himself relax and rise once he stopped shaking. The relief was overwhelming as he stepped back out with the rest of them, the relief of keeping his freedom and  _ knowing _ that it would be protected… he’d become so used to protecting himself, and everyone else, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel safe.

Things seemed to go back to normal very quickly, people filtering back to what they had been doing before all the fuss. Cayde found himself at a loose end, and any temptation he had to go back to his game with Shiro evaporated as he caught a glimpse of Banshee, alone, heading in the other direction. It would be stupid to go after him. If he was injured in a way his Ghost couldn’t fix, surely there was nothing Cayde could do for him.

Cayde had never been called a clever man. 

He slipped away from the crowd, and though he wasn’t making any particular effort to be stealthy he was naturally somewhat sneaky and besides, Banshee seemed distracted. Even from behind it was obvious he was troubled and tense. Even Cayde knew better than to try to touch him, and he got no closer than about six feet behind him before he cleared his throat to get Banshee’s attention.

Too close, apparently. Banshee was fast, and Cayde barely had time to react before his back hit the wall, a hard forearm across his throat and heavy body pinning his and crackling, Arc-imbued fingers inches from his face. For a moment neither of them moved, Banshee’s eyes narrowed and locked to Cayde’s very wide, very startled ones, as blue as the energy that flared from his hands, and then Banshee seemed to realise just who he had caught and took several rapid steps back to release him. 

“Shit. Don’t sneak up on me like that, I could’ve… did I hurt you?” Banshee asked as the Arc energy drained from his limbs. Cayde rubbed his neck, still feeling the electric tingle beneath his plating everywhere that Banshee had touched him. It felt like his wires were singing with it, and some irrational part of him that didn’t understand danger wanted  _ more. _   
“No… fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you. I uh… it can wait, I should go.” Cayde jerked his thumb over his shoulder and took a careful step back the way he’d come. Running would be bad, surely. Rude, at least.

“Did something happen while I was busy?” Banshee frowned a little, guilt flashing across his face for a moment. Or at least, Cayde thought it was probably guilt. A Warlord feeling guilty for possibly hurting someone? That was novel.

“No, no it’s fine. I just wanted to thank you for, y’know, protecting us and everything. I dunno what he said to you but I kinda have… history, with that guy.” His hand wandered to the back of his neck, his eyes trained on Banshee as the Warlord frowned a little.   
“Yeah, he mentioned. Wanted you back- all of you. I told him he couldn’t have you. You wouldn’t have made the journey if you weren’t desperate to get away.” 

Banshee’s gaze was searching, a silent question, and Cayde shrugged, as though thinking about this too hard didn’t make his plating crawl. “He’s not exactly a nice guy. And he doesn’t want us back to work for him; he’d make an example of us, so nobody else would try to escape again. He’d hang the others. Can’t imagine what he’d do to me.”

“You don’t have to.” Banshee shifted a little and for a moment Cayde thought he was going to reach out to him, before he thought better of it. His face settled into the grim determination of someone stating a truth that they intended to make absolute, “not gonna happen. Not as long as I have something to say about it. You’re safe here.”

Cayde felt some of the tension ease out of his body, a warmth swelling in his chest. “Thanks. That… means a lot, actually,” he admitted, and this time he was sure that Banshee smiled, the light in his mouth flickering to life.   
“I’ll keep saying it ‘til you believe it,” he said, and this time he did reach out to pat Cayde’s shoulder, with none of the static tingle of before, “But right now I have stuff to do. Asshole threw off my whole schedule.” 

Cayde couldn’t help but chuckle, and he stepped back once Banshee let him go. “I’ll… let you get back to it. Sorry for interrupting you all over again.”

“Not at all. It’s important that I know what’s at stake. I’ll see you around, Cayde.” Banshee turned and headed off, and Cayde nodded and watched him leave before darting back the way he’d come. The warmth of Banshee’s hand seemed to linger even through his clothes, and as he settled back down in his room he couldn’t stop thinking about the heat and power of him, how he’d felt pressed up against his body. Even in the moment of danger, there had been… something, about that show of strength.

Damnit. He was fucked, wasn’t he?

\----------

It was a couple of days before he saw Banshee again, the Warlord seeking him out as he was preparing for another hunt. “Got a minute, Cayde?” he asked, leaning in the doorway as Cayde, Shiro and Andal geared up. All three looked up, then the other two glanced to Cayde as he stood stunned for a moment.   
“Uh… yeah, sure…?” he tipped his head curiously, and Banshee slipped into the room and unslung a bag from his hip.

“Got something for you.” He said, reaching into the bag and pulling out a wooden case that he handed over. Cayde took it, running his hand over the surface. He could feel the other two hunters watching him intently as he popped the clasp and opened the lid, his eyes widening at the sight.

Carefully nestled in a fabric lining was the most beautiful hand cannon Cayde had ever seen. It was exquisitely crafted, coloured in monochrome with an oilslick sheen to the barrel and a spade design painted in a fine hand. He realised after a moment that he was just staring at it wide-eyed while Banshee watched him, and he eventually managed to drag his gaze up to meet the Warlord’s. “Are you sure? This thing is... this is something special, right?”   
“Mmhmm.” If he didn’t know better, he’d think that Banshee almost looked… nervous? “It’s a prototype, I’ve been working on the concept for a while. Put it together over the last few weeks. Tweaked it a bit for you. It’s called the Ace of Spades. You seem like a gambling man.”

Cayde heard a stifled snort from behind him, but he couldn’t tell which of his chucklefuck friends it had come from, and he realised he’d been silent for a little too long. “I… guess you could say that. Thank you, it’s… it’s beautiful.” Ever so carefully, he took the Ace from its case and let it rest in his grip, feeling the balance. It had been a literal lifetime since he’d held a gun, but it fit his hand like a glove and there was something achingly familiar about it. He couldn’t wait to try it out. 

“There’s a holster too, here.” Banshee handed it to him from the bag; an attractive belt of tooled brown leather that fit the gun perfectly and held plenty of spare ammo too, and Cayde strapped it on in a bit of a daze, wondering what the hell he’d done to deserve this. “Try it out, lemme know if anything needs fixing. Be careful with it. It’s a Ghost-killer in the wrong hands. Or the right ones.” Banshee advised, “Anyway… I should let you go. Good hunting.” 

He slipped out swiftly after that, leaving Cayde holding the gun in confusion until Andal gave a low whistle. “Oh  _ wow. _ ”   
“What?” Cayde whipped around to glare at him, holstering the gun for safekeeping. 

“He gives everyone gifts once they’ve settled in a bit but  _ that _ is something special. It’s usually just a little trinket or a piece of clothing or something.” Shiro explained, plucking at his yellow cloak demonstratively, “something small and useful that they need. You must’ve made an impression.”

“Yeah… well, maybe he just thinks I’m a good shot. Someone’s gotta test his prototypes, right?”   
“Yeah, he does it himself usually.” Andal remarked with a smirk, “Think he wants you to _ test his prototype _ if you know what I mean.” 

“Literally nobody knows what you mean.” Shiro shot back, and Cayde rolled his eyes and stalked towards the door, feeling his plating heat. He wished he didn’t know what Andal was implying, and he wished he could stop thinking about it too. The gun was beautiful, but he wondered if it was a loaded gift.   
“C’mon, let’s go already,” he grumbled, and the other two chuckled and fell in with him. 

The Ace handled like a dream. He never thought he’d be killing deer with a hand cannon, but it had far more stopping power than the bows they usually used and he absolutely adored it. He couldn’t remember ever owning something so special, and Banshee had given it to him-  _ made _ it for him, by the sound of it- like it was no big deal. It couldn’t mean so little to him, surely? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it even once they returned, and that night it even crept into his dreams; Banshee’s low, rough voice in his ear, the heat and weight of his body pressed up against Cayde’s and his strong hands on his hips. He should have been afraid, he thought, but the Warlord’s soft growl against his throat carried praise and reassurance, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt so safe flat on his back.

He woke up confused and so hard it almost hurt, flinging his arm over his eyes with a groan. That was it. He couldn’t take this anymore. He had to know where he stood, before the waiting killed him. But it was the middle of the night, and he’d have to wait until morning, so he might as well take care of this little problem first…

\-----------------

Looking a Warlord in the eye was hard enough, but it was even harder when mere hours before you had come while thinking about him. He found Banshee in his workshop, the door propped open to show him tinkering with an auto rifle. Cayde paused in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt him or not, but it only took Banshee a minute or two to notice he was there.   
“Something I can help with?” he asked, barely looking up from his work.

“...Maybe. Can we talk? Y’know, in private?”   
That seemed to get Banshee’s attention. He looked up, cocking his head inquisitively as his eyes seemed to bore into Cayde, squinting slightly at him like he was a puzzle to solve.   
“Sure. Shut the door and nobody’ll come in. Something wrong?” 

Cayde obliged, though he stayed by the wall to keep some distance between them. Not that it would make a difference if Banshee decided to attack him; the Risen was faster than he could ever hope to be. “I don’t know. I’ve had something on my mind. D’you remember when I first got here? We made a deal?”   
“I do...” Banshee raised a brow, inviting him to continue 

“Yeah, I was just…” Crap, how did he put this? “I was just wondering when you were planning on cashing in on that. I know it’s been busy but should I be ready for you or…”

“Didn’t I already?” Banshee frowned a little, confused, and Cayde blinked as his train of thought abruptly derailed into a flaming pile of wreckage.   
“What?”

Banshee turned to face him fully, leaning his hip on the workbench as he looked him over. “You offered me yourself, and I’ve had that for weeks. You’ve been an asset to us, working hard and helping keep everyone fed. I couldn’t ask for better.”

“Oh.” Cayde scrambled to reassemble his thoughts. It should have been a relief that Banshee didn’t expect to be able to have his way with him.

So why was he disappointed?

“Wait, if that’s all you thought I meant then… why did you agree to help?” he asked, searching his face for some kind of deception, for some hidden agenda.

Banshee sighed and looked down at his hand, resting by the disassembled gun. “I knew what you meant, but it had nothing to do with agreeing to help. That was just the right thing to do. You came to me desperate, offering me the only thing you had to save your friends. What kind of a monster would I have been to accept?” He raised his head to look Cayde dead in the eyes at the last part, and Cayde suddenly felt all the words leave him. He was vaguely aware that he was staring, his mouth hanging open stunned. The silence stretched, and Banshee reset his voicebox with a little burst of static and looked away. “It’s not that I don’t… you’re gorgeous. A work of art. But if you steal a treasure it’s never really yours, and I don’t wanna hurt you like that.”

Cayde felt like he should say something clever, but this conversation hadn’t gone anywhere near what he’d expected. “What if…” he began, hoping his brain would catch up with his mouth at some point, “what if I offered out of desperation to start with, but now I’ve gotten to know you better and thought about it a lot and actually… I kind of want you to plunder my treasure?”

Both brows shot up, and Cayde thought he saw something like a smile on Banshee’s face.   
“That’s hell of a way of putting it,” he remarked, and Cayde felt the tension crack in the back of his mind and a laugh burst forth. 

“Yeah… yeah I guess it is. But… seriously though. I mean it. You’re handsome as hell and I don’t think anyone’s ever been so generous to me. I don’t know if you’re the romance type or you’d just be interested in a sex thing but… either’s good.” He shrugged, unable to keep the stupid smile off his face even if it wasn’t particularly built to do that. Banshee said he was gorgeous, called him a treasure, and maybe from Hideo it would be creepy and possessive and make him want to bolt, but from Banshee it just seemed so genuine.

“Well…” he glanced up as Banshee moved towards him, getting close enough to reach out and catch his jaw in his hand. His fingers tingled where they touched but he was so gentle, and Cayde couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held like that. Who even knew that Exos could get touch-starved? Not him. He found himself leaning into it, almost missing the rest of what Banshee said, “I wanna give you plenty of chance to back out. Take things slow."

"I can deal with that." Cayde mumbled, surprised by the odd distortion in his own voice. What the hell was this feeling, this comfort? He was an Exo, he didn't need to be handled gently or held softly and yet, just from this simple touch, he felt like he was going to cry. He couldn't even do that anymore.

He settled for lacing his fingers through Banshee's, holding his hand against his face just for a little longer. There was a quiet whirr of fans, and a moment later Banshee leaned in. There was a spark as their mouths brushed and Cayde's fans hitched, head tilting to fit them together more easily and deepen the kiss. 

He would be lying if he said it was perfect; Exos weren't built to kiss, certainly not with each other, and there was a metal on metal scrape that fell just shy of unpleasant and none of the yielding that his mind had expected, but it was good. It felt  _ good  _ to be touched, it soothed some snarled corner of his mind that he had barely acknowledged for so long, and what Banshee might lack in soft lips and a tongue he made up for with the gentle touches of his hands, the way his thumb caressed Cayde’s cheek and his other hand rested gently on his waist. He could relax here, and it felt right to slide his arm around Banshee’s shoulders and tangle his fingers into his scarf like a lifeline. All the worry of the last few weeks, the fear and uncertainty of not knowing where he stood, seemed to melt away. Oh, he knew there would be more to come, but right here he knew exactly what to do.

They parted after some time, fans running hard and Banshee’s eyes bright as they met Cayde’s, his mouth slightly parted. “Okay?”   
Cayde nodded, finally letting go of Banshee’s hand. It dropped gently to his shoulder, just resting rather than holding. “If I wasn’t into you before, I would be now.” He said, managing a playful smile that was rewarded by Banshee’s fans stuttering a little.

“Glad I measured up.” He squeezed his shoulder and stepped away, and Cayde found himself leaning after him before he could catch himself, his brow creasing in concern. Had he said something wrong? “Gotta stop touching you before I just spend all day doing that. I’ve got some stuff to do this afternoon but… d’you want to join me for dinner? Just us, tonight? Can’t offer much else but I hear that’s traditional.”

Cayde blinked. Oh. Was this this ‘romance’ he’d heard so much about? He hadn’t expected that. He thought he liked it, though, if the warmth and relief in his chest was anything to go by. “I’d love to,” he grinned, and watching Banshee’s face light up at that almost made him kiss him again. Warlords should not be allowed to be cute, not when he’d seen him take several people apart fairly recently.

“Great. I’ll see you then. You know where my quarters are? It’ll be the same food everyone else is eating but… well, privacy,” he waved a hand vaguely, and Cayde nodded.   
“Yeah. I know where it is, don’t worry. I… guess I should let you get on with things?”

“Unfortunately. Stay safe, yeah?” Banshee leaned in and gave him one final kiss, then a gentle nudge towards the door.   
“You too.”

\-----------------------

Cayde spent the rest of the afternoon restless. There was no hunting scheduled, so he ended up at a loose end until Zavala spotted his pacing and steered him towards the hydroponic gardens to help take water samples and hold up pipes for repairs, anything not to be left alone with his thoughts. He was excited, he had no doubt about that, but there was an undercurrent of nerves. What if Banshee changed his mind? What if he wasn’t what Cayde thought, and decided to unleash some hidden sadistic streak when he had him alone, lured into a false sense of security? What if he was just like every other Warlord Cayde had ever met, just better at hiding it?

No. No, Banshee was different, of that he was certain. Any other Warlord would have taken him that first night, when he was desperate and vulnerable. Unless Banshee was playing some game far beyond his understanding, he genuinely wanted this to be mutual, whether just sex or… something more.

Cayde had never imagined that he could have something more,  _ be _ something more to someone, and it was such a heady thought.

He ran into Shaxx as the guard shift changed- quite literally, nearly bouncing off the massive man’s pectorals- and when Shaxx caught him with a steadying hand on his back there was none of the tingle and thrill there had been when Banshee had touched him, just the warmth of a familiar friend. “You’ve got your head in the clouds today.” Shaxx remarked, letting him go and cocking his head at him so that he could fix him with his good eye, “I can practically see the hearts in your eyes. What happened? Who, perhaps?”

“For a guy with one eye you are  _ way _ too perceptive,” Cayde complained, but there was no force behind it. He tapped the side of his head and winked, “Can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

“Oh? You’d deny me such gossip?” Shaxx’s eyebrow shot up and he grinned conspiratorially, leaning in a little.

“Yup. I… don’t exactly know how this is gonna go yet, it’s… new. So when I’m sure it’s not gonna all crash and burn, I’ll spill. Promise.”    
“Can I guess?”   
“I mean, yeah, but I’m not gonna tell you if you get it right.” Cayde shrugged, and Shaxx made a despairing noise that startled a laugh out of him, “Patience! There’s gotta be other gossip for you to get your nose into around here, there’s sixty whole new people for you to get nosy at.” 

“Well, yes, but it’s far more interesting when it’s about someone I know.”   
“I’ll tell you when I know more. Promise. Pinky swear, even.” He held up his little finger, and Shaxx chuckled. 

“Alright, alright. Keep your secrets for now. I will find out.” He waved him off, and Cayde flung a cheeky salute at him as he darted off back towards his room.   
  
A small part of his brain suggested that he should worry about what to wear, but he caught himself and shook his head with a quiet, staticky snort. He had like, two outfits, and Banshee knew it. Still, he made as much of an effort as he could, taking a hot shower and putting on the cleanest things he had. He scrubbed up okay, he thought as he stared at himself in the mirror and ran a hand over his smooth head. A little dinged, a little scuffed, but it just added character and clearly Banshee already thought he was hot, so why was he worrying about it?

He was out of time, anyway, and there was nothing left to do but give himself one final once-over and make his way to Banshee’s quarters. He’d never been there on purpose, but he’d wandered past it a few times and Zavala had pointed it out on the tour. The door was open when he arrived and he paused for a moment before gathering the courage to approach, only for the choice to be taken from him when Banshee wandered into the doorway and looked up, meeting his eyes.

“Oh, hey.” he smiled, and Cayde felt something flutter in his abdomen. Banshee, too, seemed to have put some thought into his appearance; the scarf and loose clothes were gone, replaced with a well-fitted grey-blue coat that swept from his hips down into two wide tails. The high collar didn’t look particularly comfortable to Cayde, but it gave Banshee an almost regal air, especially with the silvery details along the hems and up the sides, and paired with knee-high boots and black trousers. 

“You dressed up.” Cayde said, and immediately cringed internally at the awe in his voice, “That, uh, that looks really good on you. Wow.”

“Oh, yeah, someone repurposed some of the researchers’ gear here. Never really had reason to wear it before but I had to impress you somehow.” 

“This… definitely works. Consider me impressed. More impressed,” Cayde plucked at his shirt as he padded towards him, painfully aware of the holes and frayed edges. It didn’t seem to matter to Banshee, though. The other Exo’s eyes seemed to drink him in, and as he got close he reached out to pull him in with a hand on his waist and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. 

“I’ll have to get you something nice.” He said as they parted a moment later, and Cayde had to lock his knees to stop them from going weak. Banshee’s voice had become a soft rumble, meant just for his ears, and it sent shivers down his back, “Not that you need to try to look good. C’mon in. Food’s ready.”

He stepped back, hand sliding along Cayde’s arm to take his hand, and Cayde let himself be led. The smell of food wafting out of the room beyond was almost as enticing as the company, and he gazed around as they stepped inside. It was a stark contrast to the harsh white walls and sleek lines of the rest of the facility, almost cosy with a battered sofa and a small dining table with two chairs pulled out and an array of dishes spread across the surface. A bookcase rested against one wall, stacked with ancient paper books and datapads and rolled up blueprints, several guns propped up against the front of it and a different, smaller sword resting against the side. A door on the opposite wall seemed to lead to a bedroom and a large rug made of some kind of animal hide was spread across the floor, well-worn at the edges.

Banshee gestured him to the table and pulled the chair out for him, then took a seat facing him. Most of the dishes seemed to be vegetable-based, but Cayde spotted a bowl of some kind of noodles and something definitely smelled meaty, and he took a moment just looking over it all. It was more than he ever remembered seeing in one place, and he had no idea where to even start. 

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I thought I’d get a bit of everything.” Banshee explained, reaching for a dish of potatoes, “Our cooks are pretty good, I’m sure you’ve noticed. Think this might be one of the boars you got last week, even.” 

“Huh, nice. Everything looks delicious, it’s a lot of just two of us, though?” Cayde asked, trying not to seem too hesitant and going for the noodles. There was something familiar there, and the spices seemed to awaken some kind of long-dormant memory that he couldn’t quite pin down.   
“If we don’t finish it it won’t go to waste, don’t worry,” Banshee assured him, “and nobody’s going hungry just so we can enjoy this. I know you wouldn’t appreciate that, and neither would I.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” And yet, confirmation still helped him to relax a little and serve himself without fretting too much. 

The food was indeed delicious, and as Cayde swallowed the first forkful of noodles his eyes squinted closed in delight and he made an entirely involuntary noise of pleasure. “Oh wow…” he managed after a moment, glancing up to see Banshee stopped still with a potato halfway to his mouth, his jaw hanging open, “That’s spicy, it’s amazing… what?”

Banshee blinked, reset his voicebox with a burst of static, and took a very determined bite of the potato. “Nothing, nothing. I’m glad you like it.” he said, suddenly very interested in his plate. Cayde caught the subtle whirr of stressed fans and couldn’t help grinning to himself. It was bizarre to see a Warlord  _ bashful _ , and he kind of loved it. He hid it behind another mouthful of noodles, waiting for Banshee to make the first move

“So… I’ve been wondering,” Banshee said eventually, “why here, of all places? You didn’t know anything about me and you decided to take a chance. There are closer fortresses to where you came from.”   
“They’re all bastards. They used to trade with Hideo, sometimes goods, sometimes people. We heard plenty enough to know they’d throw us right back to him. I… kinda thought you might, still. Thanks for proving me wrong.” He ran a hand over his head self-consciously. “I did kinda know some stuff, though. Whispers, mostly. That you’d killed a bunch of other Warlords permanently and that you gave people the option to join you or not. That’s more than most. Better than nothing.”

“Huh.” Banshee frowned slightly, pouring himself a drink from a bottle of dark liquid before offering it to Cayde while he thought, “That’s an exaggeration. I only killed two; the one who had this place before me and the one next door, and I promise they both deserved it. Ask Zavala if you don’t believe me, he’s been here longer than I have.”

“Oh, I believe you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Cayde gestured to the room in general, “You’re like, the polar opposite of Hideo. Being alone with him was… hm.” He stopped himself, unsure whether he should be telling Banshee all this. Had to be a mood killer, right?

The Warlord tipped his head, frowning a little. “It’s alright. You don’t gotta tell me anything, but I ain’t gonna judge if you do.” Banshee assured him, taking another bite of his food, “Just more ammo to kill him if I ever see his smug face again.”

Cayde blinked. “You’d do that?”

“I told him as much when I sent him packing. I protect the things I care about.”

“Oh...” Cayde felt his fans spin up, unsure how to respond for a moment. He stopped them, focused himself and gathered his courage. “I… used to get in his way a lot. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, but he could be persuaded to change targets if I said yes fast enough. Better me than some girl who he could hurt.”

He hoped he wouldn’t have to spell it out for Banshee, and judging by the way his fist clenched on the table and his eyes narrowed slightly, he understood. “That’s why you offered it to me. So I wouldn’t go after the rest of them.”   
“Well, that and I didn’t really have anything else to offer. But that’s not why I’m here now. I don’t think you would any more.” He held up his hands placatingly, hoping he hadn’t fucked up and made Banshee angry at  _ him. _ Banshee’s frown faltered and his mouth flashed in alarm, and his fingers uncurled slowly, as though it took some effort. 

“I know. Light, I hate seeing you look so scared of me.” He reached out slowly, taking Cayde’s hand across the table in a well-telegraphed move. He let him, his shoulders relaxing a bit, “I know it’s a tough belief to shift, but I’m not gonna hurt you. Ever. And if you just wanna have dinner tonight, that’s all that’s gonna happen.”

Cayde nodded, slowly turning his hand to lace his fingers through Banshee’s. “I know. If you’d wanted to hurt me you could have done it ages ago. We’ve been alone together enough times. You treat everyone here well and honestly? I actually really do wanna do more than just dinner. Wasn’t kidding when I said that.”

He dared to meet Banshee’s eyes just as they brightened with interest and his fans span up a little. The gaze lingered for just a moment, and to his surprise the Warlord looked away first with a quiet burst of static. “Can’t go saying things like that straight to my face or dinner’s not gonna get finished.”   
“You find me that distracting?” Cayde couldn’t resist leaning in a bit, his mouth flashing in a grin. Banshee’s fluster was emboldening, even if the Warlord could still kill him easily.   
“Hard not to.” Banshee remarked, and Cayde found a forkful of something put in front of his face before he could say something else, “try this. Think you’ll like it.”

Cayde had never hated not having a tongue as much as he did in that moment, but he did his best to take the bite as seductively as he could without that faculty. His eyes half-closed in delight at the bloom of flavour and spice, and he sat back to swallow with a soft sound of pleasure. The whole time, Banshee’s eyes didn’t leave his face, and he knew that he knew exactly what he was doing, and that it was working. 

He settled back into his seat, far more relaxed and much more smug than he had been, and the conversation moved to lighter topics as Banshee tried to pretend like he wasn’t watching too closely while Cayde ate. The food was excellent, probably the best thing Cayde ever remembered eating, and he couldn’t resist trying a little of everything from noodles to meat to fruit, including a long yellow one that- so Banshee explained- you had to peel before you ate. They were, so he said, quite difficult to grow even with the tech they had access to here, and Cayde decided that the best way to honour the time and effort that went into such a fruit was to swallow it down almost whole while maintaining direct eye contact with the Warlord who had provided it to him. The choked, staticky noise Banshee made when he failed to swallow his own mouthful was all the reward he needed. 

To his credit, Banshee managed to maintain his control until they were done eating. He set his fork down and leaned back in his seat, his hands in his lap while Cayde licked a stray drip of sauce off his fingers. “That was amazing.” Cayde said, as though he was completely unaware of what he was doing, “I can’t remember the last time I ate so much. You filled me up so good.”

Banshee met his eyes and Cayde, feeling incredibly bold and comfortable, dared to wink at him. There was a moment where nothing happened, and Cayde wondered if he’d been too bold, made a mistake. Maybe Banshee had been giving him an out because  _ he _ just wanted dinner tonight?

The Warlord pushed himself to his feet and took the couple of steps around the table to put him in front of Cayde, looming just for a moment before dropping to his knees and leaning up. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said, his face just a few inches from Cayde’s, “letting you return the favour.”

It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, but Cayde felt heat course through his body and he closed the gap between them, a hand coming up to cup Banshee’s jaw as their mouths met. Static leapt between them, a sharp spark against his plating that should have hurt but only made Cayde feel more sensitive, more aware of everywhere they touched, every shift of Banshee’s mouth-plates and the way his hands rested on Cayde’s knee and shoulder as he leaned into him. 

They parted, fans running hard and the warm air from their bodies mingling between them. Cayde was sure he looked a little dazed, if the reflection of his eyes in Banshee’s face was anything to go by, and it took him a moment to gather words. “You mean that? You’re saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Just coz I’m a Warlord I can’t let you have your way with me?” Banshee cocked his head at him, and Cayde floundered a little. Banshee faltered at his hesitation, eyes flickering down for a moment, “You don’t have to. I want you to feel… comfortable. I’m happy to give over control for that. Not to say I don’t like being on the receiving end, mind you, I’m flexible about that. Ball’s in your court, is all.”

Cayde was pretty sure something about that thought had crashed part of his brain, but he did his best to make his mouth work, “So… so if I wanted to just pin you down right here, you’d be okay with that?” he managed, his fans stuttering as they tried to keep up with the sudden heat of arousal coursing through him. 

Banshee opened his mouth, but all that came out at first was a burst of static and a flicker of blue light. He tried again. “Bed’d be nicer. But if that’s how you want it…”

For a moment, he was tempted. He could just slide off the chair and have Banshee under him, and the reckless part of him desperately wanted to.

The reckless part always won, somehow. 

The Warlord made a startled sound, but didn’t resist at all even when Cayde caught his wrists and pinned them over his head, one knee landing between his thighs. “Oh…” the word came out in a breathless rush and whirr of fans, and Banshee’s eyes went wide as Cayde loomed over him, transfixed by the boldness of what he had done. Nothing for it now, he’d just have to kiss him. His free hand found itself on Banshee’s torso, and he felt the vents along his ribs open up as he arched into his touch, mouth parting and head tilting to kiss him back with enthusiasm. It startled him how easily Banshee submitted to him, but the rush of power was heady and he spent several minutes just kissing him, nipping at his mouth plates and trying to find somewhere he could get his hand up under the robe to trace the intricate plating of his body.   
  
Eventually he pulled away, his own vents ruffling his clothes and his eyes blown bright and wide. Banshee looked almost dazed, his mouth still slightly open in surprise. “Huh. That’s quite the wild streak you got.” He remarked, and even though he didn’t need to breathe there was a breathlessness to it that sent a shiver of arousal down Cayde’s back.    
“How am I supposed to resist when you go saying stuff like that?” He cocked his head, flashing a grin and loosening his grip on Banshee’s wrists, “But you’re right. The bed would be comfier. Gonna let you up.”   
  
He sat back, let Banshee sit up and the Warlord instantly followed him, kissing him on the mouth before letting him get up and let him up properly. Banshee took his hands, stepping back to pull him through the bedroom door. 

It was a simple sort of room, but the bed was pretty large and stacked with enough furs and blankets to be comfortable to tumble onto with Banshee, the frame creaking under their combined weight as Cayde rolled on top again and got back to kissing him with a hunger that their meal hadn’t done anything to satisfy. His hand found the Warlord’s wrists again and he pinned him once more, sitting up a bit to admire the view as he found the fastenings of the robes and started trying to unwrap them one-handed. It was remarkably difficult, especially with Banshee watching him eagerly and distracting him with the intensity of his Arc-blue eyes. He arched into Cayde’s touch, and when Cayde finally got the robes open he found his plating hot and tingling to the touch. He looked utterly debauched, robes sprawled to the side and his body sleek and shiny beneath. He dove back into the kiss, weight on his knees and the hand holding Banshee down as he tried to tug his trousers down, realised he’d never gotten the Warlord’s boots off, and made a frustrated sound that had Banshee chuckling breathlessly.

“We have all night, it’s okay. Can take your time. I’m not going anywhere” He assured him, leaning up as best he could to try to draw Cayde back to his face. It worked, and Cayde huffed and moved back to kissing him with a little less heat, a little less fervor.    
“I mean, yeah, but I’m not known for my patience.” He complained, then felt his fans stutter as Banshee hooked his legs around his waist.   
“I noticed. It’s pretty hot, actually.” he growled, and Cayde felt his thighs flex around his waist as he kicked his toes against his other heel and grunted with effort. Nothing happened, and Banshee glanced at a point just over Cayde’s shoulder, his brows drawing up in the centre in a pleading expression. Cayde heard an odd, shimmering sound, but by the time he looked back its source had disappeared in a scattering of motes of Light, like glitter hanging in the air. As had Banshee’s boots. “Ghosts,” he explained with the best shrug he could manage while pinned, “they make everything easier.”   
  
“Gotta get me one of those.” Cayde chuckled and went right back to stripping him, taking the time to fondle his thighs and palm the emerging bulge of his cock through his trousers to make him gasp static and buck into his hand. He nipped at Banshee’s mouth as he finally freed it, exploring by touch as the Warlord shuddered and went pliant under him, a soft plea for more rasping from his voicebox. Banshee wasn’t particularly loud, but the small noises and whirr of fans were more than enough to encourage Cayde, and it was only reluctantly that he let go to unbuckle his own trousers and wriggle out of them. 

He had been considering fucking Banshee, but the texture of his cock under his fingers was fascinating, with bumps and ridges he hadn’t expected, and in his limited experience it was a good size too. Maybe Hideo had just been unimpressive, but in comparison Banshee was just too tempting. He shifted his thigh from between Banshee’s to the other side of his hip once he’d kicked his trousers off, looming over him and leaning down to kiss him again as he let his cock slide up against the folds of his entrance.   
  
Banshee gasped, hips bucking up in surprise and a sudden spark leaping the full length of Cayde’s spine to make him spit static. “Fuck, you sure?”   
Cayde could only nod eagerly for a moment until he got his voice under control, “Yeah, fuck yeah, I know you said I could do you but I want you  _ in me _ . If you want…”   
“ _ Please” _

Sinking down onto Banshee’s cock was glorious, a delicious stretch that sent tingles coursing through his body as the Warlord arched under him, his moan rough and staticky. His hands curled in Cayde’s grasp as Cayde’s thighs squeezed around his hips, shaking a little with the effort of holding himself up until Banshee bottomed out inside him. He sat for just a moment, marvelling at the Arc tickle along his nerves, how  _ good _ it felt, how it didn’t hurt and he could just enjoy it at his own pace. He closed his eyes for a moment, let himself be swallowed up in sensation and the whirr of their mingled fans, the little bursts of static and the flex of Banshee’s wrists against his fingers, and then gave in and leaned over to kiss him again. Banshee moaned into his mouth, hips twitching to follow him as the shift of angle drew him out of Cayde, and Cayde tilted his hips to allow him to slide back in.   
  
Control was a heady drug, and Cayde found himself rapidly building to a relentless pace. Starting out slow and gentle had seemed smart, but it wasn’t enough and as his hips snapped faster and faster he found himself nipping hungrily at Banshee’s mouth, gasping as the Warlord yielded to him and rocked up to meet him. He’d never imagined it could feel this good, that the Light dancing across his plating everywhere they touched could bring pleasure rather than pain and humiliation. He had no doubt that if he let Banshee’s hands go he could make him come just with his touch and his Light, but he’d committed to this now. There could be a next time, and a time after that, and after that. He could think of nothing better, in that moment.   
  
Besides, Banshee looked utterly enraptured, his mouth hanging open and his fans roaring and his eyes flickering and awestruck every time they parted for a little more air, gazing up at Cayde like he hung the moon and stars. He didn’t think anyone had looked at him like that before, outside of half-remembered dreams. The Light and the thrust of Banshee’s cock inside him drove him closer and closer to the edge, but he hung on as long as he could only to be broken by a barely audible plea from Banshee, his name broken up in static and need. His body squeezed around Banshee and the Warlord cried out, his body arching against Cayde’s hands as they dragged each other to completion and collapsed into a heaped tangle of metal limbs and stuttering vents.   
  
Cayde wasn’t sure when he let go of Banshee’s wrists, but he soon found the Warlord’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, his mouth against his neck whispering praise that sent shivers through his limp body. He didn’t bother trying to speak, just nuzzled against the side of Banshee’s head with a soft, incoherent mumble, which was met with a chuckle and a gentle bump of mouth plates against his horn. “You’re incredible.” Banshee rumbled, and Cayde grunted something like agreement and made him laugh again, “heh, figured you knew but it’s worth saying. You… wanna stay the night?”   
  
He shouldn’t, Cayde thought. He shouldn’t intrude on a Warlord’s abode, and yet… he found himself nodding. Banshee rolled over onto his side and tucked him under his chin, and Cayde found himself settling in, the hum of his systems familiar and yet fascinating and new. It all seemed so easy, now. How had he ever been afraid of Banshee, when he was so tender and considerate?    
  
He lay there, having his back gently petted, and he must have dozed off at some point because the next thing he knew was light streaming in through the window, and the soft sounds of an Exo at rest coming from beneath his cheek. He dragged his eyes open and glanced up, finding himself face to face with Banshee’s sleeping form, his eyes closed and only a faint line of light coming from beneath the lids. One of his arms was still around Cayde’s shoulders, and his chest made for a comfortable pillow as Cayde just lay there, warm and at ease. Like this, Banshee seemed so vulnerable, and Cayde felt a smile tug at his mouth as he laid his head back down, something warm in his chest bubbling up like a pan on the stove.   
  
The bubbling seemed to catch in his throat, form into words, and for a moment they stuck before Cayde let them slip free in the barest whisper, startling himself as much as anything else.   
  
“I love you.”


End file.
